The Frayed Ends of Sanity

What feels like all the eyes in the world are now watching me as I slowly and silently make my way into the cafeteria. I adjust my hair to better conceal my face, and hunch into the folds of my baggy gray sweater and black jeans.

The tears are still damp on my cheeks, and as they dry it feels as if a mask is drying on my face, offering further protection.

Grabbing a tray, I shuffle into the food line behind a girl with straight, long black hair.

She is wearing a black tattered cardigan, a black tank top, ripped black jeans, and battered black and white Converse, and she is mumbling to herself.

I catch snatches of what she is saying-

“now you’re nightmare comes to life…hate to twist your mind…as they medicate you’re brain and now you slowly go insane…”

She whirls suddenly to face me.

“What the hell do you want?!?!” she screams. “Tell me!”

My eyes widen. “I…uh...I…” I choke out.

We are out of the line now and I glance down to see my tray filled with typical cafeteria food- a dried out beef patty with questionable brown sauce on it, a scoop of grayish-white mashed potatoes smothered in congealed gravy, a stale chunk of dry bread, and an apple. The only utensil I see is a spoon, and there is a Styrofoam cup placed next to the apple.

“Drinks are over there” one of the cook’s say.

I hurry to fill my cup, relieved there is soda. Pepsi seems like a blessing sent from God right now.

The girl has followed me. She is smiling now, seeming to forget her sudden outburst just moments ago.

“Come sit with us” she says.

I raise an eyebrow, wary. Her eyes narrow.

“What? You think you’re too good to sit with us? You think you’re a queen? Can’t sit with the commoners? Might catch our disease? Might become crazier?”

She takes a step towards me, I take a step back.

“No...no that’s not...I didn’t say…I mean I didn’t mean...no.” I whisper.

Her eyes narrow even more. “Then come sit with us” she says again, this time slowly, coldly, challengingly.

I can only nod and follow her to a table outside. It is a big table, and crowded. She sets her tray down and motions for me to do the same. I do and she smiles widely again.

“This is Lilia" she says.

How does she know my name? I wonder.

“Lilia, this is everyone.” She spouts out a list of names that mean nothing to me; I’ll only forget them so theres no point. “and I’m Grace.” she finishes.

Everyone mumbles hello and then normal conversation starts up again.

I pick at my food and my movements cause my newly inflicted wound to burn and itch. I bite my lip and ignore it. Everyone at one point or another eyes me as if I am an intruder, as if I have no right to be sitting here.

Grace nudges me. “Let’s go”.

It is then that I notice we are the only ones left eating. I grab my tray and follow them.

************************************************************************

We walk to a room that is as equally gray as mine, but with personal improvements. There are splashes of color here and there in the form of scribbled song lyrics and doodles. I recognize a few of the lyrics from songs by a few of my favorite bands.

“My room”, Grace says,“with improvements courtesy of Sharpie”.

She must have seen something in my face because she laughs. Everyone flops down on the floor, the bed, and the chairs. I stand timidly in a corner until a girl silently offers me a seat on the bed.

Someone turns on a set of speakers I see hidden underneath the bedside dresser and a hauntingly beautiful song flows out. There are no words, just dark piano melodies over an eerie-sounding electric guitar and violin solo.

Grace grabs a lighter, flicks the flame on, and begins to wave it over her skin. The smell of burning flesh and hair is strong and I want to gag. The flame grows brighter, hotter, but I can’t look away.

“Catch” she hisses suddenly and the lighter is hurled at me, flame first.

By natural instinct I reach for it, and the flame licks its way up my arm, colliding with my raw, open flesh. I scream and everyone begins to laugh.

“Are you freaking insane?!?!” I howl, and in one quick motion get up and in her face.

I’m clenching the lighter tightly in my fist; my anger seems to have snuffed out the flame. She widens her eyes, so innocent and clueless, and smiles sweetly at me. I shriek and shove her, and when she doesn’t react I push again, harder this time.

This time, she snarls and pushes back, and then we’re both rolling on the ground.

Everyone has moved back or to the side to make room for us, no one dares to interfere. I’ve wrapped her hair around one fist, and use the other to punch her in the stomach, the face, the back, anywhere I can reach.

She slaps at me, scratching and kicking, and I notice she isn’t as weak as she looks. Her fist lands across my eye and I gasp aloud and yank on her hair in revenge. We continue on and then finally I pull away and back into a corner.

She is eyeing me with brown/black eyes narrowed to slits of undisguised anger.

A growl is issuing from deep within her throat wrenching from her soul.

Then she smiles wickedly, cruelly, but with respect.

“Welcome to the family” I hear her say.